Episkey and Other Charms
by edochen
Summary: Leonard McCoy's seventh year at Hogwarts was supposed to be uneventful and focused. Pass his NEWTS, become accepted to St. Mungo's, forget his ex-girlfriend existed. He doesn't plan on becoming Head Boy, he doesn't plan on spending time with Jim Kirk the Quidditch golden boy, and sure as hell isn't planning to fall in love with him.
1. 1

**1**

Leonard McCoy came from a line of McCoy men who had all a great deal in common. They were all Ravenclaws, they were all prefects, they were all Healers and they had all worked at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

At a certain point, Leonard McCoy had the potential to become just like them. As a child he'd been all curiosity and bright eyed innocence, an only child in a loving family and the apple of everyone's eye. But even wizards, for all their knowledge cannot cure all diseases, and his mother had suffered for months before death finally came for her. His father cried. Leonard was ten years old.

They buried her in the backyard next to the peach trees along with Leonard's childhood.

What remained was a cantankerous young man with a no-nonsense way of speaking, who backtalked his seniors and took shit from nobody. Some had called it rebelliousness, his father knew better.

A late student, he came to Hogwarts by the age of twelve. A year older and a head taller than most of his peers.

The hat sorted him into Hufflepuff.

His family didn't care. He hadn't cared either if it weren't for the fact that Hufflepuffs were almost_ never _accepted to St. Mungo's. For as much as the parents, the teachers, and the headmaster promised that not one house was better than the other Leonard knew that Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, saw Hufflepuff as beneath them in every way.

Professor Eggleton, head of his house and Charms teacher had never doubted Leonard's sorting, he'd said as much. Leonard never told him of his ambition to follow in his father's footsteps but Eggleton had still made him prefect in the fifth year. Even though Leonard knew there were at least a dozen students more qualified and willing to carry the title. It was Eggleton who told Leonard during career advice that his ambition to enter St. Mungo's wasn't unwarranted, and it was Eggleton who talked to Boyce to let him help in the Hospital Wing after class.

After that his school days passed by with a messy but generally uneventful flow. He spent most of his time studying, passed his O.W.L.S with 'Outstandings' and 'Exceeds Expectations' only, did his duties as prefect and continued his days helping Boyce at the Hospital Wing. Amazingly, besides his busy schedule, he had still managed to fall in love, get a girlfriend, get dumped and have his heart shattered into a dozen or so pieces before the sixth year ended.

Leonard had never been all the magnanimous in his perception of life but this all but confirmed that life was there to ultimately screw him over.

They send the Head Boy badge during the summer, a letter of congratulations accompanying it. His dad and grandparents had been so proud, but Leonard saw it for the imposition that it was. Making him prefect had been a doubtful decision but he _knew_ he was no Head Boy, not now, not ever.

He wore the title and wore the badge all the same, as he made his way to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and sat in the front cabin like he'd done for the past two years. Spock had congratulated him for his position, even though everyone thought him most likely to gain the title. It took Leonard some difficulty to grunt a thanks in response.

He didn't even think about telling the prefects to make their rounds through the train until Spock reminded him, two hours away from the school grounds. The first one to return was Sulu, running. Telling about a fight between a fourth and a sixth year student that made Leonard have to run all the way to the last car of the train.

By the time he got there they'd already broken one of the cabin doors.

The hall of the last car was filled with students, blocking the way, trying to catch a glimpse of the scuffle. Luckily they were mostly first and second years, so the string of lightning and thunder Leonard shot out of his wand while commanding them to go back to their damn cabins, made them scramble out of the hallway like startled mice.

He saw the cabin door first, shattered. Then watched the back of a big guy with a green uniform he recognized right away, Hendorff, sixth year, real bastard. Hendorff was looming over a shorter student, wildly punching away at his helpless frame.

Well, maybe not _that _helpless, because the second Hendorff took a misstep the short student managed to take his assailant down with one fell swoop of his feet. It surprised Leonard so much, he momentarily forgot he was supposed to break the fight up. Until the boy grabbed his wand from his front pocket, ready to curse Hendorff with something vile, which sprung Leonard into action. Less than a syllable came out before Leonard drew his own wand.

"_Flipendo_." The boy's eyes widened as he got knocked against the wall by Leonard's spell, getting the air pushed out of his lungs in the process.

Hendorff, the idiot, thought this to be the best time to take one more lunge at the boy, his hands directly going for the boy's neck. Leonard had his wand on him before he got that far.

"_Stupefy." _Hendorff fell down like a sack of bricks on top of the boy, and Leonard had to shove him away with his foot so the boy could breathe.

"Thanks," the boy muttered, and with difficulty tried to stand up.

Leonard ignored him, turned back to Hendorff and with a flick of his wand, put a levitation charm on him, so he floated a couple of inches from the ground. Then he turned to Sulu, who was standing there, looking at the scene as if it were a tableau vivant.

"Sulu, bring Hendorff back to his cabin," Leonard said, in the _nicest _tone he could muster at the time.

"Right," Sulu said, and grabbed a fist of Hendorff's shirt in his hand, and pulled him back to wherever the hell his cabin was.

By that time the boy was up and blood was falling from his probably broken nose.

"Hold your head back, use this," Leonard said, and with a firm hand made the boy lean his head back and then gave him the handkerchief he had in his pocket to catch the blood. He also grabbed the boy's upper arm and pulled him away from the glass they were standing on.

"_Reparo."_ The door flew back into one piece, fitting back into the doorway. Leonard slid the door open to the empty cabin, it stuck a bit but he was never great at that spell anyway.

"Get in here and sit down," he said to the boy, and the boy obediently followed and sat opposite to him still with his head back, the bloodied handkerchief pressed to his nose.

This was the first time Leonard could get a good look at him, his wool sweater had the Gryffindor emblem embroidered on his chest and was pulled out of shape and stained with blood. He could also see the beginning of a black eye forming, his lower lip was split and his nose was still bleeding. He had to give the boy credit though, Hendorff hadn't looked much better.

"You sure know how to pick your fights," Leonard said, as he moved from his seat opposite the boy to next to him. "Let me take a look at that nose."

The boy let go of the handkerchief to let Leonard see.

It was definitely broken, but nothing too bad. "_Episkey._" A small cracking sound and the bone was back at its original position. "Try to breathe in through your nose."

The boy took a good sniff, and smiled. Despite the gashed lip and the blood on his lips, the boy had a nice smile. He also happened to have the bluest eyes Leonard had ever seen, so that when he was looking at them he not only wondered who the boy was, but even more so how had never noticed him before.

"You're pretty good at that," the boy said, breaking Leonard from his stupor by nudging towards the slightly stuck cabin door with a smile that showed no memory of the fight he'd been in moments ago. "Mending things."

"Yeah that's me, the fixer." Leonard said acerbically, moving back to his seat opposite the boy. "'reckon bones are my specialty."

The boy was feeling his nose with his hand, not in a lot of pain anymore. "I agree."

Leonard noticed the knuckles of the boy's hands, red and scraped by connecting with Hendorff's hard head. "Hold your hands like this." He demonstrated by showing with his own hands, the boy copied so Leonard could mend the injured skin. He did his black eye too, while he was at it.

When he was done, and even cleaned the dried blood off the boy, he leaned back into his seat and sighed. Rolled his shoulders back to recover from the tension already building in his neck and from being completely unsuitable for his job.

The boy was watching him as he did so, blue eyes intently on him as he licked his split lip.

Leonard looked right back. "I'm letting you keep the lip, otherwise you'll never learn," he said. "Don't _you_ fix it either."

"I won't," the boy said, very serious, turning his face towards the window, watching the scenery flow by as the sun was setting.

The boy was a paradox, if Leonard ever saw one. Shoulders low and restless legs like a boy, but eyes so focused and he seemed so much older than he was, perhaps even older than Leonard himself.

Leonard didn't realize he was staring until the boy turned back to face Leonard, who was by now making himself very comfortable in the cabin, his feet all the way up the bench.

"Don't you need to be somewhere?" the boy asked, looking at the head boy pin on Leonard's chest.

"Yeah well, if they ask, I'll say I'm keeping an eye on you," Leonard said, closing his eyes.

"I'll make sure to tell them," the boy said, a flash of amusement in his eyes. "You're watching Jim Kirk, by the way."

"What?" Leonard said, opening one eye and looking at the boy.

"My name," Jim said. "Is Jim Kirk."

"Oh," Leonard answered stupidly, but held out his hand lamely still lying down and Jim took it and shook it with a laugh. "McCoy, Leonard McCoy."

"I know who you are," Jim said. "You help out in the Hospital wing, and apparently, you're Head Boy now. Congratulations."

"Yeah." Leonard said acerbically. "It's a real honor."

Jim shrugged. "I've been told." He pulled his legs up on the couch as well and leaned against the window.

The rest of his journey was so deliciously uneventful that Leonard managed to fall asleep until it was time to get out of the train. Jim, who hadn't talked after Leonard closed his eyes was already gone, Leonard didn't know where, when he groggily made his way back to the front of the train to round up the prefects.

Not that there was much rounding up to do. The prefects were already there, waiting for him. Spock raised an eyebrow when the first thing Leonard did when he saw them was yawn.

"Right, well, you two," he pointed at two fifth year whose name he'd already forgotten. "Make sure none of the first years get left behind, the rest of you, join in with your classmates."

Feeling at least a little guilty he helped the two prefects make last check of the train, and he took one of the last carriages himself to the school. He hated the carriages, always felt hollow eyes of the Thestrals following burning on his skin. He'd always wondered if the creatures knew why he and others like him could see them.

The last carriage leaving was filled with mostly Ravenclaws, who probably would've kept riding if it weren't for the head boy pin now gleaming on his chest. That didn't mean he didn't have to sit at the rear, with some of the baggage, but Uhura was kind enough to join him there with a blanket to keep them warm. Nyota Uhura was a fourth year, very clever, very beautiful, current seeker of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. He had been friends with her since last year when a fall off her broom during practice had left her with a broken arm and leg and a nice long visit to the hospital wing.

Uhura had a kind of wittiness about her which Leonard could appreciate, and she never was one to mince words, which Leonard appreciated even more.

"Heard you've broken up a fight in the train," Uhura said, obviously amused as they swayed side to side with every movement of the carriage.

"Don't even talk about it," Leonard grumbled. "Hendorff and some other kid, Jim Kirk, I think he might be in your year."

Uhura let out a laugh, a clear and melodious sound. "He's in my year all right, seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Actually I'm surprised _you_ don't know him."

Leonard raised an eyebrow. "And why is that?"

"Because he's Jim _Kirk_." When that didn't ring a bell, Uhura added. "Son of George _Kirk_."

"The auror?" Leonard asked, surprised.

"The one and only."

"Oh," well shit, everyone knew George Kirk.

"You _really_ didn't realize he was his son?" Uhura said, surprised. "He must've liked _you_."

The kid had been all smiles despite getting his ass kicked. Leonard had just assumed the kid was deranged, never thought it was because he didn't recognize him as a hero's son. The boy had some shoes to fill, that was for sure.

They rode the rest of the way talking about other things, the new year, Leonard's _last year_ at Hogwarts. Uhura pestered him on his plans for the future, made him tell all about his summer at St Mungo's. She got as much out of him as she could before they finally got to the school grounds, and said goodbye just before making it to the great hall.

The Start-of-Term Feast was just about to begin, and Leonard and Uhura had to half run to their seats before headmaster Archer began his welcoming speech. Then the first years started to stream in one by one, scared and nervous as always.

This was the seventh and last time Leonard got to watch this ceremony, boys and girls being sorted in their house by the sorting hat. He tried to give it an honorable goodbye, but honestly, he wasn't all that interested. He looked around, glanced at the table behind the sorting hat, where he saw professor Eggleton, who, when he caught his eye nodded to him in greeting, a mischievous smile on his face.

Leonard gave him the politest scowl he could manage before turning his attention back to the last sorting.

The last boy, Pavel Chekov, was young and looked even younger. Cherubic curls and bright eyes. When he sat on the chair, the Sorting Hat placed on his head nearly flopped over his teeny little head.

"_Hufflepuff,_" he heard someone say, but it wasn't the sorting hat. He turned towards the snickering children at the Slytherin, eyes almost murderous but Spock got them to shut up with a simple raise of his eyebrow. Then he turned to Leonard and nodded, and Leonard nodded back in thanks. He didn't like Spock all that much actually, and he never bothered to remember his first name, but Spock had always been fair if a little cold. This again, the collected way he managed to reel his peers in, just went to show he was the best choice for Head Boy. Better than himself anyway.

"Gryffindor!" The hat yelled out, and the boy, Chekov, beamed as the Gryffindor table started to cheer loudly, being the last student sorted in their House. Gary Mitchell, Gryffindor's oldest prefect who was supposed to keep them all in check, probably cheered loudest of all. Leonard watched as Chekov was hauled into the group like some kind of trophy, and Mitchell lifted him in into a bear hug before sitting him down next to him. Then Mitchell turned to the Jim, who was sitting on the other said, and ruffled his hair. Jim smiled from ear to ear but unlike his peers, was still sitting good-naturedly, he saw Leonard staring at him and shrugged.

Leonard shook his head but smiled back.

He'd never understood that House.

* * *

NB. I don't have a beta-reader so I might fix problems after publishing. Also this story is weird because it's people from the future from America, set in the past in England. But we ignore that. HAH!

{I update irregularly}


	2. 2

**2**

"I can't believe you're not going. It's the _first_ game of the season, Len." Judging by the look Christine Chapel was giving him, Leonard was sure she was seconds away from punching him in the throat.

They were sitting by the fire in the Hufflepuff common room, Leonard comfortably warming his feet after spending his Potions class in the damp and cold dungeons.

"So," he said. "I don't like Quidditch, and it's raining."

"Then cast an impervius charm," Christine said impatiently.

"I'm working at the hospital." Leonard said.

Chapel made a frustrated noise, balled her fists, but managed to take one last deep breath before asking one more time in the calmest voice she could manage. "Leonard, you are _head boy_, and _I_ think, it'll be good for the team, if they saw the head boy rooting for them at their first game of the season."

"Who are we playing?"

"Gryffindor."

"Then I'm basically going to watch our house lose the first game of the season," Leonard said. "Besides, I already told Boyce I'd be helping out with the inventory."

He had to slide down all the way off the chair to dodge the pillow Chapel flung at his face.

"Fine," she said. She didn't mean it. "See if I care." Her long hair flicked behind her as she turned towards the door.

"Don't forget to cast impervius," Leonard called after her.

The next pillow she threw hit him square in the face.

The heavy rain on the school grounds were very calming in the hospital wing. Combined with the monotonous counting of the number of Pepperup potions, Leonard knew for sure that he had made the right decision by staying indoors.

Philip Boyce, their patron, was in Hogsmeade, stocking up at the pharmacy. Boyce believed this year's Quidditch games would be particularly rough. Personally, Leonard found Quidditch to be too irresponsibly rough to begin with.

By the time he was done with the inventory, and had remade the bed with a quick cleaning spell, it was hours away and it had stopped raining. He'd brought the Daily Prophet with him though, and sat on one of the beds while he tried to do part of the day's crossword puzzle and read about a couple of cases of Vanishing Sickness in Beauxbatons. He wondered if his dad was treating them, he'd have to write him later.

Before he managed to actually finish the article a big thrum of people started to pass the corridor, which, of course, meant that the Quidditch match was over. Most passed the door without a single glance in, but the most rumbustious lot, a group of boys and girls screaming _"Go, go, Gryffindor"_, well they just waltzed right into the hospital wing like a bunch of idiots. They stood shoulder to shoulder, with in the middle Jim Kirk, covered in sand, grinning like an idiot. From the way he had to be hauled up and winced in pain with every step his teammates took he probably had a couple of broken ribs.

Leonard shook his head at the sight.

_Jim Kirk._

This was the second time that year he'd seen that boy up close and Leonard could not believe he had successfully gone through three years without ever meeting him before. In the past few weeks he had come to understand that _everyone_ knew Jim Kirk, not only for his father's legacy but also from Jim's own reputation. Leonard had learned that conduct-wise Jim Kirk seemed to cost the Gryffindor House the most points each year, points he managed to earn back by consistently scoring extraordinarily well in all his classes. He was promiscuous to say the least, his reputation with the girls in his year, as well as those below _and _above him, preceding him. Yet at the same time he seemed to be popular with his peers and had a circle of friends that came from all four houses, including Slytherin. As for why Leonard never noticed any of this, well, his mother always told him he was single-minded to a fault.

Then there was the other question as to why it even mattered. So what if it was Jim _Kirk_, why should he have noticed at all? Leonard couldn't help but wonder while the Gryffindor Quidditch team presented him their golden boy.

"I fell," Jim announced hands in the air as if celebrating, immediately slumping down until Gary Mitchell hauled him back up. "I caught the snitch and then I fell."

"I bet you did," Leonard said, taking Jim from Mitchell's grip and guiding him to a hospital bed. Then turning around to the still cheering group. "Quit your hollering, this is a hospital."

They quieted down immediately, but kept smiling and bumping into each other with such abundant energy that Leonard told them to get out. Instead of moving away, Mitchell took Jim's face in both hands and kissed him on the cheek with a loud smack. _"Our Champion," _he nearly crooned, which turned Jim's cheeks bright red.

"Take a hike, Mitchell," Leonard said, nodding to the door. Mitchell moved his merry young men (and women) back to the Gryffindor common room very loudly, but without protest.

It took a while before their voices stopped echoing through the corridors, but Leonard only turned his attention back to Jim when he couldn't hear them anymore. Jim was watching him while shifting uncomfortably trying to find the most comfortable position for his ribs. There wasn't any because they were obviously broken, Leonard could see that much, even with Jim's clothes in the way.

"Was it worth it?" Leonard asked, while lifting Jim's shirt up to his shoulders, so that the bruised side of Jim's chest lay bare.

"Falling, you mean?" Jim asked, shivering when Leonard put a hand on his lower chest. "Your hands are cold."

Leonard ignored that and examined Jim. He also tried to ignore the fact that Jim was looking at him the entire time. "I think you're lucky," he said after a while. "Two broken ribs, one bruised."

"How long till I'm back on my feet?" Jim asked.

"Three weeks," Leonard said. "Maybe four."

"Just in time for the Ravenclaw match," Jim said, relieved.

Leonard rolled his eyes.

Jim looked amused when he did. "Do you like Quidditch?" he asked. "I looked for you during the game, but I couldn't find you."

"Don't know much about Quidditch, but I thought the Seeker was supposed to look for the snitch." Leonard said, his tone artificially lackluster.

"And I found it," Jim said, chest swelling with pride, and quickly deflating with pain. "But I didn't find you, Bones."

"Well, I was here. Who the hell is _Bones_?"

Jim's blue eyes danced with pleasure. "I'm calling _you_ Bones, because you keep having to mend my bones. I just made it up."

Leonard looked at him incredulously. "Yeah, please don't call me that."

"Aw, don't be like that, it suits you." Jim said, smiling.

Leonard shook his head but didn't say anything, instead he took his wand out of his sleeve. "_Ferula."_ Bandages spun up Jim's chest and neatly bound it to ease the pain of the break.

"Thanks," Jim said, sitting up and breathing with visibly more ease.

"Don't mention it, kid," Leonard said, tucking his wand back in his sleeve. "And don't come back here again."

"Can't promise anything," Jim said, hopping off the bed and trying to hide the pain that followed. "Been here a couple of times last year too."

"Really?" Leonard said, genuinely surprised. "Strange, I would've remembered _you_."

The moment he said it, he regretted it. Well not, _what _he said just the way he said it. The way Jim smiled, Leonard was sure he noticed it too.

"I remember _you_ though," Jim replied, winking. "See you later, Bones." Leonard just stood there, lost tongue, as Jim pulled his shirt back down and walked out of the hospital wing without looking back. Jim was well along his way when Leonard finally realized he was staring.


End file.
